


Sherlock's Strategy (Version 2)

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Choose Your Own Adventure, Confession, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Sherlock Tricks John, Sherlock Wants John To Love Him, The Gay Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock knows he and John belong together and decides he's waited long enough for John to also figure it out. He comes up with a strategy to force John to face the facts. A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Johnlock story! Start the story and then decide which way you want it to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock Has Made A Decision

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock had made the decision: he'd gone along with John's stupidity long enough.

From the minute Sherlock had seen John in the lab that day with Mike, he'd known something was different about him. He'd been able to read John's recent past, true, but he'd also read something else: John was going to be important in his life.

And so he'd invited him to share the flat. And then he'd invited him on a case. And then John had seen right through Sherlock's self-destructive urge to be clever -- not only saving his life but saving him from himself. Sherlock knew he'd been right about John.

As time passed, they grew closer. Sherlock had opened up to John in ways he'd never opened up to anyone else -- slowly, yes, but still. John made Sherlock _feel_ and what's more, on occasion, Sherlock had even _shared_ those feelings with John. He called him his friend, he felt sad when John felt sad, he worked hard to minimise any hurt he caused John. Yes, John made him _work_ and even though it sometimes scared Sherlock to be so vulnerable, he pretty much loved every minute of it.

Because he loved John.

It hadn't taken him long to realise -- though it took a little longer for him to accept -- but it was true. It was all true. Sherlock loved John. And he wanted John to love him.

Yet, John didn't. John kept chasing women, kept dating women, sometimes bringing them back to the flat and making Sherlock watch their awkward interactions. John also seemed to enjoy whinging to Sherlock about the lack of love in his life. Over and over, John would come to Sherlock about his dating woes -- without ever acknowledging that the perfect partner was staring him right in the face.

Sherlock had done his best to let John figure it out himself. Not everyone was as quick at deduction as he was, Sherlock knew that. But he could take it no longer. Something had to be done.

Now, of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he wasn't going to just discuss this with John -- tell him his feelings and offer his heart. That would be too simple. Instead he came up with a plan. And tonight he was going to put it into action.

___________________________________________

_**If you're in the mood for angst, please go to Chapter 2.** _

_**If you're in the mood for silliness,**_ [**please click here**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2063775/chapters/4486263).


	2. Sherlock Sets His Plan In Motion

Sherlock glanced at the clock. He expected John home in five minutes so he stood up from his chair, moved to the kitchen and put the kettle on before going into his room.

John had been in a sour mood all day, another date having gone terribly wrong the night before. He didn't understand why this kept happening. Why couldn't they just be . . . He trailed off and refused to finish the sentence. _Sherlock_ , his brain finished anyways, the voice defiant in his head.

He had heard it a thousand times before. Mrs Hudson was borderline delusional about it, Mycroft still made jokes about it, Lestrade gave them funny looks and Angelo was going to start hiding rings in the food soon to push them along. The crazy part of it all was that John wasn't as put off by it as he pretended to be.

Sherlock was handsome, smart, mostly decent, and very good to John. It was like John had been included in a little club and he was proud to be the only one Sherlock liked. But John wasn't . . . couldn't be gay. He liked women, he always had. He couldn't be feeling these things for Sherlock. So he just pretended he didn't see it. He pretended the feelings weren't there.

Not that it mattered anyways. Sherlock was married to his work. He had very reluctantly let a friend into his life and now that would have to be good enough. He walked into the flat promising himself to be less moody, hanging his coat and toeing off his shoes.

"Sherlock? I'm home," he called.

"In my room," Sherlock called. He emerged a second later. Although he'd spent all day in his pajamas and dressing gown, he was now looking freshly pressed in his purple shirt and a very smart suit. "Kettle's just gone -- I thought you'd want a cup." He poured John's tea, carrying it over to the sofa where John was sitting. He walked over to the mirror and fiddled a bit with his hair.

John did a double take when Sherlock came out, having to remind himself to quit staring. "Do you have a case or something?" John asked, taking a sip from his mug. "Should I get my coat on again?"

"No, no case," Sherlock said, "I'm just . . . going out." He finally just gave his head a little shake, letting his curls fall where they may. He turned around. "I'd assumed you had a date -- there's nothing here for dinner."

"Oh. I can order something -- why are you going out?" John asked. He felt jealous all of a sudden. Who was Sherlock going out with if not with John? An unfair question really given all the dates John went on, but Sherlock didn't do any of that. Did he?

"Just a date -- no one you know," he smiled lightly and then moved his coat. "I'll see you," he called as he went out the door, leaving John no more time for questions.

That was key to Sherlock's plan: disorient John. John was so used to seeing Sherlock only in one way. Granted, it was the way in which Sherlock had introduced himself -- aloof, married to his work and, well, devoid of any interest in sexual matters. But that wasn't who Sherlock was or at least wasn't who Sherlock was now. So he had to jolt John into a new perspective. By letting him think Sherlock had a date.

Which, of course, he didn't. Sherlock didn't have any interest in anyone besides John, and he didn't really fancy drawing anyone else into what he secretly recognised was both an extreme and childish way of handling this dilemma. He glanced back towards the flat as he walked down Baker Street, picturing John upstairs a bit dumbfounded by the idea that Sherlock Holmes was out on a date. This would work, Sherlock thought. He was sure of it.

John watched him leave, his mouth hanging open slightly. So he _did_ go on dates? Since when? Why now? _It doesn't matter because you're not gay_. Somehow that didn't seem so important at the moment. He got up and ordered Chinese to be delivered. Should he wait up? No, that would be childish. Sherlock was a grown man, allowed to do as he pleased.

When John's food finally came, he found he didn't have much of an appetite. He picked at his food for a while before putting it away and going to bed. _Wait up for him here, he'll never know_. John looked towards the door and sighed. Who had interested Sherlock enough for this? John found he hated whoever it was. _What if they both come home?_ John got up and shut the door. He didn't want to wait anymore. He lay down and willed himself to fall asleep.

Sherlock wandered around, eventually stopping into a cafe where he drank much too much tea as he read his paper, played on his phone, and then read the faces of people passing by the front window. When enough time had passed, he left, stopping into a bar and ordering a small glass of wine which he immediately downed and then he walked back to Baker Street.

When he got home, he quietly moved into the flat, but John was nowhere to be found. Sherlock noticed the almost-full Chinese boxes in the kitchen. Hmm . . . He looked up to John's door, which was shut. Okay, not a problem -- Sherlock could improvise. He undid a few buttons on his shirt and, looking in the mirror, deliberately messed up his hair. He moved back to the front door, opened it and then closed it again too loudly. He pretended to stumble a bit as he walked to John's door, knocking loudly. "John, you're still awake, aren't you?"

John was in fact awake still, much to his dismay, and he jumped lightly when Sherlock shouted. He stayed perfectly still and pretended to be asleep.

"John, stop pretending to be asleep," Sherlock said, impatiently. "Can I come in?"

John squeezed his eyes shut and didn't answer again. What could he possibly want? He took a deep breath and decided to just get it over with. "What do you want?" he grumbled.

"To chat obviously," Sherlock said opening the door. "What's wrong with you? Since when do I have to have a reason? Can I come in or not?" He stood at the doorway waiting.

John didn't want to hear about the date at all but admitting that would only cause more trouble than it was worth. "I was sleeping -- but yes, you can come in."

Sherlock walked over to John's bed and sat down on the edge. "Are you sick or something? It's not that late, is it?" He took off his jacket and tossed it over John's chair.

"I don't know what time it is," he said. He took in Sherlock's appearance but didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, let's have a little chat. It's strange to not speak to you of an evening," Sherlock said. He moved up John's bed, kicking his shoes off and bringing his legs onto the bed as he leaned against the headboard. "How was work? Sorry I had to leave right when you got back."

"Work was fine," he said. "It was busy today." He took a deep breath and asked, "How was your date?"

"Quite nice actually," Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Good," John said, trying to sound convincing. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"Well," Sherlock said. Hmm . . . he wasn't sure why John wasn't taking the bait. He decided to push his luck a little. He slumped down a bit and turned on his side to look at John. Their faces were so close and, for a second, Sherlock thought about just lifting his head and kissing him. But instead, he said, "It's good to get out of the flat and do something different." He let out a small sigh, hoping John would smell the wine on his breath.

John wrinkled his nose lightly as he smelled the wine. He was getting angry now, but more at himself than anything because this was bothering him so much. In all his defiance, somehow he'd missed Sherlock suddenly becoming social. _But it doesn't matter because you're not gay_ , the voice said. He cleared his throat lightly and nodded. "Yes, well, I'm glad you went," he said. It was hard keeping his tone casual.

"Me, too," Sherlock said. He tried to watch John's face, but it was hard to read. Why? Why wasn't this working? "Well . . . I think I'll make a cup of tea. I'm too wound up to sleep right away. Do you want one?"

"No, I'm going to get back to sleep, I think. Thanks anyways." Suddenly he felt guilty -- like an awful friend, because Sherlock was excited about his date and he was letting his own nonsense ruin it. "I'm really glad you had a good time, Sherlock. If you want to tell me more about it, I have an early shift tomorrow," he added.

"All right," Sherlock said, trying to keep his face and voice neutral. "I'll see you tomorrow." He got up off John's bed, pausing for just a second at John's door -- just in case there was going to be a last minute realisation. But there wasn't. Sherlock moved downstairs and went to the bathroom and then took a glass of water into his room. He took off his clothes and slipped into bed.

He stared up at the ceiling. Why wasn't John more jealous? Why hadn't he realised that Sherlock was slipping through his fingers? Well, he wasn't, of course, there was no date, but that wasn't the point. The point was Sherlock's plan hadn't worked. Unless John just needed a little more time to think, to let the idea stew -- yes, that must be it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, John would see the truth that Sherlock felt was written on every wall in this flat: John and Sherlock belonged together.

John turned on his back when Sherlock left, staring at the ceiling. What would he have done had he realised Sherlock liked being social? Nothing. These thoughts swimming in the back of his mind were just . . . confused lines left behind from all of the things that everyone else said to them. Of course, if everyone kept joking about them being together , of course, he was bound to think about it himself. _Liar._ John ignored that voice and focused on the one trying to rationalise everything. 

The last thing that should happen now is for John to change his behaviour. Any sort of change was going to be noticed by Sherlock, and he couldn't have that. The chance of them being more than friends was gone now -- John could only be a good friend to Sherlock or risk losing him forever by pushing him away. Supportive. That's what he had to be now. 

He turned back onto his side and tried to fall asleep.


	3. John Tries To Be Supportive

It took John a long time to fall asleep, and when the alarm rang for him to get ready for work, he felt like it had only been two minutes. He took a shower in attempt to wake himself up a bit before going to the kitchen to make tea and something to eat. 

Sherlock heard John's movement in the kitchen and wondered if he should get up and give John a chance to declare his love before heading to the surgery. No . . . John would probably want to wait until he got home. He said he'd back earlier today anyway. He decided to stay in bed a little longer.

John ate his toast quickly over the sink and poured a second mug of tea for Sherlock. He knew there was a chance it would be cold by the time he got up, but he left it anyways. He took a cab to the office since he was running a bit late as it was. 

Eventually, Sherlock got up and dragged himself to the bathroom. Then he stretched himself as he walked into the kitchen, noticing the tea John had left for him. God, John was so good. He made himself a new cup and moved over to his chair. He picked up his phone. 

_Thanks for the tea. I hope your day's going all right. SH_

Did John's stomach always flip that way when he got a message from Sherlock? Or was it just extra noticeable today because of what happened last night? He chose to push it aside -- not quite ignore it, but simply file it away. 

_Must be cold now but I tried. It's slower today -- relaxed. -JW_

_Have you got a date tonight or will you be here for dinner? SH_

John's stomach twisted now. Maybe he wouldn't be having lunch today. 

_I'll be at the flat tonight. Unless you need me to make myself busy. -JW_

_What do you mean? SH_

_I just meant if you needed the flat for the night I could find something to do. -JW_

What was John talking about? Sherlock thought he and John were going to talk tonight -- tonight was when they were supposed to sort everything out. Oh wait, John meant . . . that Sherlock might be on another date. Hmm . . . he thought for a moment.

_No. I'm yours for the night. SH_

"If only." The words had come out of his mouth before he even realised he'd spoken. He looked around as if there was someone in the room listening. He felt his cheeks burning and he scolded himself for being so stupid -- no one was here. No one heard that. _I heard it._ John sternly told that voice to shut up as he typed out a message. 

_I have a lot of food left over from yesterday -- maybe we can watch a movie or go for a walk or something. -JW_

_That sounds fun. When will you be home? SH_

Sherlock rarely used the word fun, but he knew he'd said it last night. Surely that would set a little competition in motion -- John would want to be more fun that last night's date. Sherlock smiled to himself. This would work after all.

_Couple more hours. Which one do you want then? Movie or walk? -JW_

_Walk. I'm looking forward to it. SH_

A walk would be the kind of thing John thought was romantic. Sherlock smiled a little. He decided to get up and tidy a bit and then he took a long bath and got dressed. He had already used up the effect of the purple shirt, which he knew John liked, so he flicked through his clothes trying to choose something else John had once remarked upon. He chose one of his other silk shirts. Once he was ready, he went back into the sitting room to wait for John.

John took a cab home as well, figuring he would get his walk in anyways when he went with Sherlock. When he came in he didn't even bother taking his shoes off, calling out for Sherlock. "Ready to go?" he asked, straightening his coat a bit. 

"Um . . . all right," Sherlock said. He was thinking they'd talk first and then have a romantic walk. But this would be okay. He stood up and put his coat and scarf on. He let John lead him downstairs.

John picked a direction at random and kept his pace slow, looking around at the buildings and the people that they passed as they walked. "What did you do today?"

Sherlock thought, but realised he hadn't really done anything except think about the conversation they were going to have. "Um, mostly reading, I guess, and resting up," Sherlock said. "I didn't do much, I guess." 

"The flat looked neater -- did you clean or did Mrs Hudson come up?" John asked.

Sherlock smiled a little that John had noticed. "I just thought I'd tidy a bit. Since you were so tired last night, I just wanted to help a bit, I guess." 

"'Helping' suggests that you think it's typically my job," John said, glancing over at him with raised brows.

"I don't think it's your job, John," Sherlock said, looking over. "I just mean you usually do . . . so I wanted to help out." This walk didn't feel very romantic so far.

"Well, either way that was really nice of you," John said. They fell into silence for a bit. "The surgery wasn't too bad today -- not as busy as yesterday so I was able to catch up on some paperwork," he said eventually.

"I'm glad," Sherlock said. "So are you off work tomorrow or do you have to go in?"

"I have to go in, but I'm off the whole weekend," John said.

"That's good. Got any dates lined up?" Sherlock asked. He really thought by now this conversation would have turned to John's undying love for him.

"No, I don't. Do you? Is your date getting a second one?" John asked, looking forward again.

"Um," Sherlock didn't know what to say. He had assumed just the one imaginary date would be enough -- was he going to have to go on another imaginary date? "I don't know," he said. He didn't say anything else for a moment, but then added, "Can I pick your brain for a moment? I was just wondering . . . how do you decide if you really like a person, I mean, like you want to _be_ with them?" There, Sherlock thought, this was a good strategy. John would explain and then it would be so blindingly obvious, he would have to realised that he was meant to be with Sherlock. 

"Well . . ." John paused, thinking about how to answer this without giving anything away. "There has to be a mutual connection based on both people wanting the same things. I personally look for someone who is caring and smart, funny and laid back, attractive . . . but they have to want me as well. To find me handsome and to think I'm funny and smart." He stored and thought about all of that, realising it all sounded rehearsed and generic. "I just want someone who loves me. When you love someone, those little things don't matter." He looked forward again and resisted hitting his forehead.

Sherlock felt like grabbing John's arms and shaking him, shouting, 'I find you handsome and funny and smart, you fool!' But that obviously didn't seem an appropriate thing to do out on the street. However, what did seem obvious is that one imaginary date did not do the trick Sherlock had expected it to do.

"I see," Sherlock said. "Well, I guess it's hard to tell all those things from just one evening together. I suppose the fact that I'd even consider a second one must be telling us something . . . maybe I should go again to see if there's a mutual connection and if we want the same things."

John's jaw clenched slightly before he nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea. Dinner again?"

"Is that what you'd suggest?" Sherlock asked. "You are better at this than me. You know what to do."

"Maybe try the cinema," John said.

"But it's hard to get to know someone in those places, isn't it? I mean, you don't get to know a person just doing stuff all the time, do you?"

"Yeah -- things they like and don't like," John shrugged. "Dinner is great for talking, though. Whatever you like."

"Let's head home," Sherlock said, turning quickly on his heels. He hated every moment of this. It wasn't supposed to work like this. John wasn't supposed to be giving Sherlock advice; he was supposed to be realising now was the time to change their relationship. He started this and he'd have to finish it, but he couldn't face this conversation anymore.

John stuffed his hands into his pockets. He could do this . . . he could be the supportive friend. Even though it was painful to watch, he could do it.


	4. Sherlock Adapts His Strategy

As they walked back to the flat, Sherlock re-evaluated his strategy. He needed to up his efforts; perhaps a single date was just too subtle. After all, John went out all the time -- sometimes a few dates with the same woman -- there wasn't anything too unusual about that. Sherlock needed to shake things up.

When they got back to the flat, Sherlock put the kettle on. "What are we doing for dinner?" he asked, but before John could answer, Sherlock reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Hello?" he said, holding up one finger to John. "Oh hello," Sherlock said, letting his face move into a smile. He turned his back to John and spoke in a low voice. Then he said more loudly, "That's outrageous!" and he glanced up at John. He went back to mumbling in a low voice again as he walked into his bedroom and shut the door.

Sherlock sat down on the bed and dropped the phone into his lap. This felt ridiculous, but he had been so sure this would work to open John's eyes -- he didn't want to give up on it yet. He made a few random laughs and mumbles before putting the phone back in his pocket. He returned to the kitchen to finish making the tea. He didn't say anything else to John.

John watched him talking on the phone and was sure his stomach was going to disappear with how twisted it became. He looked away when Sherlock glanced over, busying himself with looking through the menus they had. When the conversation was over, he debated asking about it or just ignoring it. _Fuck it -- that was so rude!_ versus _He's excited -- a good friend would ask_. John almost groaned out loud. He forced a smile onto his face and looked over again. "Sounds second date worthy -- you are beaming," he said.

Sherlock frowned a little. What was he talking about? This was a pretend face, not a beaming face: John should _know_ Sherlock's beaming face -- it was the face he wore when they were together. Suddenly, he decided to change the plan slightly.

"Well, I'm trying to be hopeful, I guess. I mean, you know -- you're always going out on dates. One day you'll find someone and then . . . well, I'll be on my own. I guess I should try following your lead and give it a go," he said. 

John opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again. It was odd -- all this time he'd been dating and yet he had always assumed he and Sherlock would be together as well. Now that he heard it voiced out loud like that he realised that he wouldn't be able to have both. He also knew which one he wanted to choose, but now it was too late. _And you're not gay_. He ignored that voice now because even to himself it was starting to get old. "Sounded like something exciting happened," he said instead, giving him the chance to talk about it if he wanted to. Supportive -- that's what he had to be.

"Well, I was trying to be laid back and fun like you said. You said 'they have to want me as well', right? That's how I was trying to be. So do you think that's the impression I gave?" 

John nodded. "It seemed like you were really excited to hear from him," he said.

Sherlock glanced up. "What makes you think it's a him?" he asked, watching John's face closely.

John looked over and raised his brows a bit. Was Sherlock actually saying he was dating a woman? "I . . . I don't know. I just assumed, I suppose. With everyone thinking I was your new boyfriend when I moved in, I just assumed they had a reason for thinking that. It's a woman?" 

"Are you saying your advice would be different if it were a woman?" Sherlock asked.

"No, not at all. I would just like to know who my best friend is so enamoured with," John said. _Plus if its a woman I won't feel so bad._

"I never said I was an enamoured, did I? It's not a woman," Sherlock said. "It's a man."

 _A man that could have been you!_ John lifted a hand to his head as if to silent the voice screaming inside it."Well, that's great. That's . . . right. Um . . . what did you want to do for dinner?" he asked. 

"John, look, I know you're uncomfortable with things of this nature -- I won't talk about it anymore," he finished his tea. "We can do whatever you want for dinner." He turned and washed out his cup.

"I'm not uncomfortable," John said indignantly, shuffling through the menus again. "I think I want to finish my leftovers -- do you want me to order you anything?" 

"John," Sherlock said softly. "Everyone in London knows you're uncomfortable with homosexuality. Don't pretend . . . I'm sorry . . . I should have been more sensitive."

"I am not! Just because I correct people when they think we're a couple doesn't mean -- my sister is gay. My best friend is gay. It's all fine, Sherlock." He realised he was getting angry now. He put the menus down and took a slow breath. "I think I am going to lay down a bit before dinner." He turned and went up to his room, leaning against the door as he closed it. He was really going to have to keep it together if he was going to get through this. It was a lot harder than he imagined. 

He knew he could just admit his feelings, but what good would that do him now? Sherlock was seeing someone else and it would be rather unfair to demand that now. After all of his protesting, he could hardly insist Sherlock leave that man to date him now. Sherlock had no reason to sit around and wait for John. He moved to his bed and lay down. He didn't know how to do this.  

Sherlock went into his own room and lay down on his bed. This wasn't working, and it was just upsetting the flat. Everything was going wrong. He wished he could just go up to John's room right now and tell him there was no one else -- that it was only John, it'd only ever be John. But now John was so adamant . . .

Sherlock picked up his phone and read through some of their old messages. They reminded him of all the things they'd done together.

_I'm sorry if I've made you upset. SH_

John pulled the phone from his pocket and sighed when he read the message, rubbing his eyes hard. 

_You didn't make me upset. I am glad that you've found someone that makes you so happy. I don't care that it's a man. -JW_

Lies. It was all lies, but what else could he say? 

_I never said he made me happy. I said I don't want to end up alone once you've found the person who makes you happy. SH_

_I don't even have a date, let alone the sort of long term relationship that would threaten what we have here. Don't date someone for that reason -- it won't end well. -JW_

_John, just because you don't have a date tonight doesn't change the fact that half of your life is focused on trying to find that relationship that would threaten what we have here. Don't pretend that your end goal isn't what it is. SH_

_It's not and I'm insulted you think I would forget about you so easily. -JW_

_I didn't say you'd forget me. Face it, John, I am unforgettable. We both know that. But your goal is to find a woman to love. Don't pretend you really believed you and your girlfriend would live here and we'd all be happy families. You wouldn't forget me, but you would leave me. SH  
_

John covered his face and wanted to shout. This was the worst thing that could be happening.

_Maybe. But not any time soon so don't rush into dating someone just because of that. -JW_

_Why are you in such a rush, John? SH_

_I'm not in a rush! -JW_

_But all you do is chase women, John. I have to watch it all the time. SH_

John's face burned lightly. That made it sound like . . . no. Sherlock couldn't be jealous. He didn't feel that way about John. He was moving on. 

 _It's not_ that _bad. -JW_

_You're only thinking about it from your point of view, not mine. Think about it from mine. SH_

John rubbed his forehead lightly. What was he supposed to say? 

 _Why does it bother you so much?_

No. He couldn't ask that because . . . because why? He was afraid of the answer. What if Sherlock said he was jealous? John didn't think he could stand to know. 

_I'll try not to talk about it so much. I'm sorry. -JW_

_Talking's not the issue, is it? SH_

_What does any of this matter? I'm sorry -- I should have kept this to myself. SH_

_Friends talk about things . . .don't keep things to yourself. -JW_

_I wish you would talk to me, John. SH_

_About what? I thought I was doing too much of that? -JW_

Sherlock stared at the phone. Perhaps this was the moment.

_You know what I mean. You know what this is about. SH_

_I don't know what you mean, Sherlock. -JW_

John was glad they were texting because the shame of that bold faced lie was almost crushing him -- surely it would be visible.

_I apologise. I was mistaken. SH_

This was too frustrating. Sherlock stood up from the bed and then headed out of his bedroom. He glanced up at John's bedroom and then grabbed his coat and headed out.

_I'm going out. Don't worry about dinner for me. SH_

_Where are you_

John shook his head and deleted it. Sherlock would never tell where he was going right now. He was angry and upset.

_Okay. See you later. -JW_

Sherlock looked at the message and cursed. He tried to think. He knew he wasn't wrong about the two of them belonging together. He knew that he was right. They were right. They belonged together.

But why wasn't John more jealous then? Sherlock was incredibly jealous every time John went out. And he didn't even try to hide it. Why wasn't John jealous? As far as John knew, Sherlock was -- what was the word he used? -- _enamoured_ with someone else. Why didn't John care? 

Earlier today he assumed tonight was the night they would finally admit their feelings. And now here he was, out of the flat, walking around confused and upset. How did this happen and what was he supposed to do now? He headed to the hospital and went up to the lab, but he was too distracted to focus on any work. So he found an empty waiting area and laid down across the chairs and tried to go to sleep.

John went down after a long time and attempted to eat his cold Chinese. Again he merely picked at it, not really having an appetite. It was late and Sherlock wasn't back yet. He closed himself up in his room again, hoping that it would be easier to ignore that fact he was alone if he was in his own space.

He had a hard time falling asleep and when he did he had broken dreams about some guy moving into the flat with them, constantly touching Sherlock, going on cases with them, and eventually trying to murder John. He woke up sweating and panting, rubbing his face hard to try and clear it all away.

Sherlock could not get comfortable and he blamed John for that. After a while, he got up and just wandered around the hospital. Eventually he got bored of that and walked over to the all night cafe and drank enough tea to make his stomach hurt. When it was eventually light out, Sherlock made his way back to the flat. He just wanted to get in bed and forget that any of this had happened.

After several failed attempts to get back to sleep, John gave up and dragged himself out of bed. He was exhausted. He padded down to the kitchen and started the kettle, glancing towards Sherlock's room. _Did he come home last night?_ John looked back at the kettle and tried to ignore that.

Sherlock let himself into the flat and saw John at the counter. There was no sneaking in now. He tried to make a normal face and said, "None for me, thanks," and then headed towards his bedroom.

"Are you all right? How was your night?" He asked, leaning to watch Sherlock retreating.

"Fine . . . good," Sherlock said, stopping at his bedroom door. "Yours?"

"Normal," he shrugged. "Did you have a surprise second date? Looks like it went well," he smiled. Well, he tried to smile. His face felt like it was stretching too much and his voice sounded too . . . normal.

Sherlock had an idea -- his brain was too tired to properly evaluate it so he didn't even bother trying. He turned to face John and said, "I suppose it did . . . obviously. " He lifted his hands up and adjusted his shirt a bit. "Your advice paid off, I guess, so thanks for that."

John's jaw tensed again before he forced himself to smile again. His stomach was a twisted mess, and he was glad he didn't have anything in it yet. "That's . . . that's great," he said, faltering lightly.

"It was," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry about earlier -- now I see things from your perspective. It _does_ feel good to know that someone wants you."

John moved to pour the tea, unable to keep looking at Sherlock as they talked about this. "I'm glad I could help," he said evenly. He wondered if his voice sounded as weird to Sherlock as it did to him. Why couldn't he have just told Sherlock how he felt? He'd missed a hundred chances. 

Sherlock took a step forward. "In fact," he said, "I -- we were talking about maybe . . . spending more time together. To see, you know, if it's . . . right. Would it be a problem for you if I weren't around for a while? I mean, I'd still pay for share of the rent and all unless you wanted to find another flatmate . . ." 

Surely, this was it. True, this was not the way he had originally intended his strategy to play out, but he was so tired -- physically and mentally -- of this game with John. Surely, this would be the final move. Checkmate.

John blinked down at his mug, almost overflowing it. "You're . . . you want to move in with him? Already?" He turned to look at Sherlock, tilting his head lightly.

Sherlock looked at John's face. It was faltering -- he could see it. "Why not? You and I moved in together the first day we met and that worked out just fine. Of course, I realise it's not quite the same -- you and I are just _friends_ , but surely it's worth trying with him, don't you think, in case he's the one?" He looked right at John and waited.

John blinked in compete and utter shock. He opened his mouth once, then again before he was finally able to make the words come it. They were quiet and far too steady -- he was trying very hard. "That's . . . well . . . it's surprising but I'm . . . I'm glad you're happy. I hope it works out and I -- I'll find someone to rent your room . . ."


	5. Sherlock's Strategy Ends

Sherlock stepped towards John, pulling his arm so they were facing each other. "Why are you doing this, John? Just stop it. Please. Just stop this now."

"Stop what?" John asked stupidly, meeting his gaze. "Do you . . . should I help you pack? I don't mind." He heard the words leaving his mouth and he could hardly believe he was saying them. He felt like he wasn't even really here -- like this was a long terrible dream. He was gone. John had lost him.

"You've not even met him -- you don't even know his name and yet you're going to just stand there and let him take me away from you?"

"He's not taking you -- you're going! You want to go and I'm . . .I'm your friend. I'm not going to stop you if you're happy," he said. He tried to hold Sherlock's gaze, but it was difficult.

"For fuck's sake, John, just tell the truth -- there is no man, I've not gone on any dates -- I was trying to get you to tell me the truth! God, you are so infuriating sometimes!" Sherlock pushed John's arm away and took a few steps back.

"You . . . what?" John asked, turning to keep looking at him. "What do you mean? You've been lying?" He could hardly believe it. It was all a game? And what did he say? For John to tell him the truth? "That's so typical of you -- you turn everything into a bloody experiment!" John asked, his voice rising slightly now.

"I have been waiting, John -- waiting for you to open your bloody eyes and then your mouth and tell me -- tell me that you . . . that you feel it, too. I have been waiting so long, John, watching you parade a stream of women in and out of here -- all the while knowing, knowing that you know the truth. Yet you refused to say it. It's been horrible and I just got tired of waiting."

"And instead of just talking to me you tried to make me jealous?" John asked, turning away from him. He was fuming with anger but underneath all of that he couldn't help realising what this meant. Sherlock felt the same way about him. "That's . . . it was a cruel, stupid thing to do. But it worked." He rubbed his face hard and turned back around. "It worked. I hated him from the moment you mentioned him. I hated thinking about the dates, I hated talking about it, I hated all of it. I thought you weren't interested in that kind of stuff and then suddenly you were and you had someone else and I just wanted to be supportive. I hated it -- every second."

"Yet you did nothing but encourage it," Sherlock said. "You encouraged it and you -- you _lied_ to me."

"I lied? What the hell was I supposed to think? My friend tells me he's found someone who makes him happy and I'm supposed to what, exactly? Make you stop? You're the one that lied to me -- tried to trick me into admitting my own feelings instead of talking to me." John was pacing now, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"I didn't lie -- I tricked. Not the same. You _lied_. You lied when you said you weren't uncomfortable with the gay thing. You and I belong together -- you know it -- yet you would have done nothing to stop me leaving and it's all because of the gay thing. The way things were going, John, you saw only two options: you'd find a woman you were willing to settle for and that would be that or we'd live here together forever, all the while pretending it was just because your Mrs Right never showed up. You stood there and lied to me when _you_ could have talked to me," Sherlock said. He swallowed and turned to look at John. 

"Unless . . . ," Sherlock said and took a step forward and then another. "Unless you were waiting . . . waiting for me to do something. Maybe you wanted me to trick you into it. Maybe you'd be a little drunk and I could catch you with your guard down -- something . . . " Sherlock grabbed John's hands and pulled them behind John's back as he took one more step closer, pressing his body right up against John's, "something like this . . . so it was all me and you didn't have to decide, you didn't have to admit it . . . it would just happen and then we'd be together." He dropped his head slightly, breathing against and up John's neck to his ear. "Is this what you were waiting for? Is this what you wanted, John?"

"I wanted you," John said quietly. "I hated that I was losing you and I just . . . I wanted you, Sherlock." He turned his head a bit to meet his eyes, so incredibly close to him now. "I would have never settled for anyone . . . I want you." John didn't even try to fight him off.

"So this is what it would have taken?" Sherlock asked, looking John straight in the eyes and pressing himself even closer. "No," he said, letting go of John's hands and turning away from him. He took a deep breath. "John Watson, I have waited so long to kiss you -- I've pictured it a million times in my head -- and that's not how it's supposed to be. This dating thing -- a trick, yes, but only to get you to admit the truth. The truth first then the kiss. Fuck you, John, if you're saying the only way we could be together is if you could fool yourself into thinking it was out of your control. Do you not see how hurtful that is?"

John almost whimpered when Sherlock pulled away, but he gathered his thoughts before stepping closer. "Aren't you listening to me? I wanted you from the beginning. I thought you weren't interested. And now . . . I resigned myself to letting you be happy. I just wanted you to be happy, Sherlock. I love you."

"No, John," Sherlock said. "You know we belong together. You know _you_ make me happy -- if my happiness was your main concern, we wouldn't be in this situation." He shook his head. "Don't say you wanted me from the beginning -- that makes it a million times worse. If you were struggling, John, you should have told me . . . you shouldn't have pretended . . . you shouldn't have lied."

"I didn't know you wanted this! I wasn't about to ruin the friendship we have for you to turn me down. You're the one that told me you were married to your work and that you didn't do this sort of thing -- that took weren't interested! Don't you dare blame me for believing you. You lied just as much as I did!"

"I _wasn't_ interested . . . until you," Sherlock said. "A lot of things have changed since that night, John -- you've just been unwilling to see." He looked over at John now. "How could you not know I wanted this? I'm not like other people, my methods are different, I know, but . . . think about the way I am with you. I'm not like that with anyone else -- you know it, I know it, the whole world knows it. But you chose to ignore it, because we're both men."

"But you don't have friends either so I just thought . . . I thought it was that. You said you didn't do relationships. I wasn't going to force you!"

"John, you wouldn't have forced me . . . because that's not how we are," Sherlock said more softly. "I shouldn't have done this trick, I know, but I'm not the one who thinks clearly about emotional things. You do and I'm willing to bet you've been thinking about this without talking to me about it. That's all I was trying to do . . . get you to talk to me because that's when we're best. That's when we work, how we've sorted everything up until now. Why didn't you trust that we could sort this as well?"

"I was scared," John mumbled. "Not because of what people would think but of being rejected. Every time someone brought it up, I would look at you and think how you don't do that . . . I worried that if I said something, you'd get angry and . . . So I head it off so we could just be friends . . . I didn't want to lose you."

"That's the bit I don't understand," Sherlock said, turning to face John properly. "How could you not see it? The things we do, the words we say, this flat -- our home . . . everything is coloured by the fact that we belong together. I know I see things before others, but I thought . . . I thought you'd know. I thought you'd feel it just like I did."

"I don't know what to say, Sherlock. I felt something different, and I knew what I felt for you, but the thought of ruining everything and losing you for good made me hesitant. What if I was wrong?" John leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

"But you're not wrong, John," Sherlock said, moving closer and uncrossing John's arms. He slid his hands down to grasp John's. "You're not wrong, that's what I was trying to help you see. You should have trust in yourself. You should have trust in us." He pulled their hands to his own lower back to let John's rest there and then reached up with his own to hold John's face. "I'm going to kiss you. If you want me to stop, tell me to stop."

John curled his fingers to hold onto Sherlock. He looked up, meeting his eyes and licking his lips lightly.

Sherlock looked down at John and then slowly pulled their faces together. He kissed John's mouth softly, tasting John. He relaxed into the kiss that he had imagined so many times. He kissed John Watson like he loved John Watson because he knew he did. He needed John Watson to know how much he loved him.

John just barely held back a small whine. How long has he wanted this -- been craving this exact thing? Heat exploded through every nerve in his body as they kissed, and his hands gripped him tightly, pulling him closer.

Sherlock let his hands move from John's face to his shoulders and down his back to his hips. He stayed kissing John -- he thought he might never stop kissing John.

John moved his head slightly to deepen the kiss, focusing on every inch that Sherlock touched. Nothing seemed to be enough.

Finally, Sherlock pulled away and said, "Come into my room with me, John. Come to my bed."

"Okay," John nodded, moving to take a hold of his hand. He didn't want to be separated at all, even if they had to move.

Sherlock pulled John into his room. He opened John's dressing gown and slid it from his shoulders and then pulled down his duvet, motioning for John to get into the bed. He then took off his own clothes, slid into the bed next to him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close and kissing his mouth again.

John hummed softly, moving so their bodies were flush together. He touched any part of Sherlock he could, his hands always moving for more.

"This is how it should be," Sherlock moaned softly against John's skin. "I've known it for so long . . . I just wanted you to know it as well." He dragged his mouth down to John's neck and kissed and sucked it.

"I'm sorry," he murmured,tilting his head a bit. "But you could have said too," he pointed out, bringing a hand up to lace into his hair. 

"Shush now, stop being stubborn," Sherlock said smiling softly. He shifted his body to lie on top of John. He began to rock his hips lightly. He looked down at John's face. "I love you," he whispered and dipped down to quickly kiss his mouth.

John pushed his face back to meet Sherlock's eyes, his own a bit wide. "I love you, too," he said, holding his gaze. Then he kissed Sherlock again, pushing his hips up to meet Sherlock's so they could continue.

Sherlock slid one of his hands down John's body and rested it on his hip. Then he slipped to John's side and moved his hand to John's cock. As he started a slow stroke, he leaned into John and began kissing his mouth again.

John pushed into his hand, reaching down to hold Sherlock.

Sherlock gasped at John's touch. "Yes," he moaned softly, partly in agreement and partly as encouragement. "John . . . please."

John took his hand and wrapped their fingers around the both of them, allowing them both to stroke while their cocks pressed together in the middle. "I want you, Sherlock. I have for so long and I just . . . I need you."

Sherlock rocked his hips against John, their hands moving together over each other. "God, John, this is so . . . right." He pressed his face against John's shoulder.

John wondered his far Sherlock wanted to go, dipping his head to kiss Sherlock's temple. "You're so sexy . . ."

"I've waited . . . John," Sherlock tried to say. He took a deep breath and looked up. "I need to come, I can't wait anymore . . . don't stop."

"Okay," John breathed, moving their hands faster. "I'm close too . . ."  
  
"We won't be able to go back after this, John," Sherlock managed to say, "It's going to change everything but I want it to . . . I don't want to stop." He slid his other arm under John and pulled their bodies even closer together.

"Shh," John murmured, kissing him softly. "It's okay, love. It's okay . . . come for me . . . come with me.

Sherlock closed his eyes and let himself go. He called out John's name as his body arched against him and he felt the pulse and the wetness spill over his hand. "God, John . . ." he moaned softly, hardly able to catch his breath.

John moaned at the sight of him letting go, still stroking the both of them until he followed. He moaned for Sherlock, bucking against him as everything became more wet. 

Sherlock squeezed his arms around John. This was what he had waited so long for and suddenly, the last few days felt so heavy on him and his body and brain were exhausted. He said John's name and then buried his head against him.

John wiped his hand on the bedsheet before wrapping his arms around Sherlock and holding him tightly. He dipped his head into the crook of Sherlock neck, panting softly. "Are you okay?" he murmured.  

"Yes, I'm . . . just tired . . . I didn't sleep at all last night," Sherlock admitted. "I'm so sleepy now. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. You can sleep right here -- you don't even have to move off of me. Please don't move . . . just sleep for a bit," John said, kissing his cheek. 

Sherlock's body instinctual curled around John's as his mind started to rest and his muscles relaxed. He fell asleep against him, listening to John's breath, his heart beating close to Sherlock's.

John loosened his arms a bit so he wouldn't bother Sherlock, but he kept them around the man's body still as he slept. He thought about how close he came to losing him -- or rather how close he thought he came -- and he closed his eyes. He couldn't believe everything that had happened but this . . . he opened his eyes to look down at Sherlock. Well, he couldn't really believe this either.

Sherlock slept beside John. Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked over at him. "So it's real," he said sleepily. "It's finally how it should be." He smiled and pressed a kiss on John's chest.

"I'm having a hard time believing it myself," he admitted, smiling at the kiss. "Do you feel better?"

"I do," Sherlock said. "What are we going to do now?"

"We should talk, I think. We both were shit at saying what we felt and we can't have games like that again," he said.

Sherlock's face flushed a little. "All right," he said softly. "What do you want to say?"

"That I realised I was wrong not to trust you -- that I should have believed whatever happened, you wouldn't have let us fall apart. Also, I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me," John said, turning on his side to face him.

"You didn't, John -- I mean, not about the second part, not really," Sherlock said as he mindlessly moved his fingers on John's arm. "I'm not very good at talking. It's not usually what I think to do. Usually what I think to do seems much more complicated and sometimes a bit like a trick . . . but it's only because I'm not very good at the talking strategy."

"But we have to try, Sherlock. We have to," John insisted. "I want us to be okay."

Sherlock looked over at John's face. It was good. John was so good. "I'll try, John, I will," Sherlock said. "But you have to talk to me, too. Don't let yourself go mad inside -- you'll have to tell me about what worries you."

"I will, I promise. It won't be like this again," he said. "I don't want this to happen again."

Sherlock lifted his head quickly. "What do you mean -- what don't you want to happen again?"

"The fighting and the lying," John assured him.

"All right," Sherlock said, breathing out a sigh of relief and settling back down against him. "And what about the other? Do you want that to happen again?"

"The sex?" John grinned. "Yes, I would like that."

"You say that now because we're lying here naked, but be honest . . . don't you think something about the sex part has made you . . . uncomfortable? Not every man needs to announce 'I'm not gay' ten times a week -- but, for some reason, you did," Sherlock said. He stroked John's arm again lightly. "I just want you to feel okay about everything."

"I already explained all of that," he said. "It's new -- sure I'm nervous, but I want you. I want everything with you."

"Good," Sherlock said leaning up a bit and giving John a quick kiss on the mouth. "We'll see, yes? We're not in any rush now -- we've got all the time in the world." He wrapped his arms around him again and squeezed.

"You're right," John assured him. "Are you tired? I know you just slept, but it's nice lying here with you."

"I want us to lie here for a bit longer and then we'll both get up and it'll be like we're starting a brand new day, yeah?" Sherlock said, snuggling down with John. "Close your eyes at least and pretend to sleep for a few minutes." He turned and watched John close his eyes. "I'm glad I don't have to pretend to have a boyfriend anymore," he whispered. "I don't have to pretend anymore because now I do," he added, reaching to squeeze John's hand. Sherlock closed his eyes as well and when they both were awake again, everything was right at 221B Baker Street.


End file.
